Gone
by Maironad
Summary: Eric reflects on his reaction to Adele's loss. This is a one-shot tribute to EricIzMine/Angela Vaughan's memory and is a derivative of her MultiVerse works.


**Eric and Sookie belong to Charlaine Harris. This take on Eric and Sookie, the concept of skipping, and all things MultiVerse were created by EricIzMine/Angela Vaughan and belong to her heirs. This is a tribute to her memory, and a thank you for all the enjoyment her MultiVerse continues to give me.**

**Updated on 11/27 to fix errors. Never edit your own work after a sleepless baby night. Lesson learned.**

* * *

The library was so very empty these days.

We still used it, of course. Hunter made it his center for serious research and homework, I still depended on it as a place to work quietly when I chose to do so at home, and Sookie read here, though far less often than she used to.

The room showed clear signs of its recent occupation - bills needing attention were stacked on my desk next to piles of abandoned vacation plans. Hunter's table, a recent addition, was littered with his latest project - a large diorama representing life during the Viking era. Every time I looked at it, the progress gave me a new source of amusement. Today he had apparently added wings to the warrior's helmet and labeled him "Hagar" just to piss me off. I'd made sure the kid damned well knew better than that.

Then there was the chair - sitting empty and unused for the past two months. Adele's scent still lingered, but it was fading enough that I had to consciously seek it out to notice. On the table next to the chair were a pair of reading glasses and a thin volume from the first printing _Pride and Prejudice_ set I had Bobby acquire as a joke after our tour of Tyson's kingdom had included a stop in Hertfordshire.

I could still see Adele lounged in her chair, surprised that she was so serious about reading the work given that she didn't seem to share Jane Austen's penchant for planning happily ever after based on marital prospects. Pam had tortured me enough when Austen was being published, but I had brought this new round down upon myself by thinking I'd tease Adele with a priceless addition to my library that she wouldn't approve. She made no apologies about her rants against the Cinderella theme of "winning in life by marrying rich." Counter to my expectations, Adele devoured the work with the same enthusiasm as she did Samuel Clemens. The joke ended up being on me, as had happened far too often since she and Sookie entered my life.

"You're still reading that trash, Adele? Really?" I had scoffed when I found her beginning the second volume. "Isn't that little more than the tale of a girl saving herself by snagging a wealthy husband?"

Adele had chuckled as she lowered the book. "You only heard a summary from Pam, didn't you?"

That woman knew us both too fucking well - that I'd never touch a "ladies' novel," and Pam would irritate me by telling me all about her enjoyment of it.

"Maybe."

"Either you need to pay better attention or she needs to read it again," Adele clucked at me.

"Cheeky woman," I muttered, settling in the chair beside her.

"You do choose to surround yourself with them."

"Fuck your point."

"Language, young man!" Adele laughed, shaking her finger at me. I chuckled back, amused at the absurdity of being admonished by a women over nine hundred years my junior.

"Share your wisdom with me, then. What did Pam miss from her copycat Cinderella redux?" I stared the old woman down, daring her as I steepled my fingers and waited. She gently ruffled her fingers along the page edges as she gathered her thoughts in her own time, unruffled by my posturing. She was one of the very few who knew me well enough to tell I was amused.

"It's about a young lady who is determined to hold out for partnership and respect, despite society telling her she should marry whomever would secure her future and her family's fortunes. She acknowledges that holding firm to her principles may mean she ends up with nothing of her own. There's also a young man who is so accustomed to being pursued for what he is and what he can bestow that he hides his goodness behind an inscrutable, disdainful mask. Then a certain young lady catches his interest by treating him according to his behavior, and proceeds turns his carefully-ordered world upside-down. Sound familiar?"

No. Not at all. And fuck her. I was almost tempted to read that damned ladies' novel now.

"But they could never have the happily ever after implied by the ending," I countered. "His society circles would never accept her because her family was beneath them."

"Society didn't matter enough to either of them for that to be more than an annoyance," Adele countered. "And Lizzy was adept at maneuvering through all levels of society. She would have a chance of carving out a position for herself after everyone's shock had turned to a new target."

"Until their world started to come crashing down when the second industrial revolution leached wealth away from the land and estate ownership."

"Ah, but that's the brilliance of the match that even Austen couldn't anticipate," Adele told me, holding up her finger to emphasize her point. "They were the perfect pairing to navigate the economic turmoil ahead. Mr. Darcy had a good head for business or his estate wouldn't have continued to flourish when it was left to him at such a young age. Lizzy's connections to trade through her maternal uncle would make introductions and connections much easier for the reclusive Mr. Darcy. Through her, he could broaden his circle of acquaintances to those knowledgeable about navigating the economic revolution. By preserving his wealth, he would preserve his estate and all the thousands of people who depended on him for their livelihood. His willingness to encourage Lizzy in her pursuit of education in areas that were considered too much for a lady's delicate sensibilities would both nurture her spirit, and allow her to recognize the best business connections Mr. Darcy would need. It is only through their recognition that they balance each other against society's expectations that they really can have a chance at happily ever after."

I mused on that for a while, brushing my steepled fingertips against my chin.

"Fuck your point. Again."

As usual, she just laughed at me dismissively and buried herself right back in her book.

The damn woman always found too many ways to share her thoughts on my life and relationship with Sookie without actually commenting on it, and I would always miss her perspective.

Slowly, reverently, I picked up the book Adele had left on the side table. It was the first time it had been disturbed since her passing. I ran my fingers along the tooled leather spine as I moved to sit in the nearby chair I had occupied as Adele explained why _Pride and Prejudice_ wasn't the shallow "helpless heroine hits the motherlode" story Pam made it out to be. It was still marked with her worn strip of deer leather where she had left off reading, and I felt foolish for wondering what sort of wisdom she may be leaving to us by its placement. After several minutes of arguing with myself over the futility, I opened the volume to the mark and scanned ravenously for some sort of fucking message that wasn't there.

_When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her being in Kent._

Of course Adele would never have closed the book at one of the more famous passages or turning points. Still, like a fucking ass, I continued staring at the page waiting for something profound to reveal itself until I could feel Sookie approaching through our bond. I didn't have to look up to know she entered the room and was closing in on me. I could feel her in my chest, smell the inexplicable faded sunlight of her scent grow closer, and hear the lightest touch of her footfalls.

"Eric?" she called, but I didn't respond, just continued to stare at the text. I felt her realization in the bond, followed immediately by the reopening of a dull ache that was her own loss. "Oh, sweetie," she breathed, moving the book and my hands to the side so she could seat herself in my lap. "You've been so busy taking care of us, you haven't had a chance to grieve, have you?"

"You needed the support," I answered autonomously. "She was your foundation for your entire life. I'd known her for an eye-blink of my centuries, and I am accustomed to loss."

"None of that means she wasn't important to you, too."

Her little hand closed over mind, warming me in every way that mattered as her face pressed against mine. I closed my eyes, giving myself the moment to acknowledge my grief and let it pass. What I said had been true - I was accustomed to loss, and I didn't need grand gestures, overtures, or observances to "get over it." I'd long ago learned to simply accept the loss and move on. This time, though... Sharing Sookie's grief made me feel like I was losing my own fucking mother again. Ridiculous.

I pressed my face to Sookie's, and felt a tear trickle between our cheeks and land with the distinct plop of liquid on paper.

"Your book!" Sookie exclaimed, wiping her face as she stared in horror at the splash of red now staining the once pristine antique page.

"It's fitting," I told her.

"Yeah, I guess it is, like she's leaving a mark on your library," Sookie breathed.

"She's left more than a fucking mark," I chuckled sadly, glancing around at the numerous books Adele had inspired me to add.

"I bet she's kicking her own ass for not finishing them all," Sookie snorted as she leaned forward to lick my face clean.

"Undoubtedly."

I returned the favor, for once not aroused by the mingled taste of my blood and her sunshine. When there was no more, I leaned my face against hers and closed my eyes for a few moments to focus on the comfort of her scent and touch.

Those moments were cut short by a sudden temperature change. The sudden smell of wood rot and cowardly vampire stench made us both snap our eyes open. It was happening again.

"Dammit. This is like freakin' _Groundhog Day."_

"Excuse me?" I asked her.

"It's a movie about a guy that keeps reliving the same day over and over again. How many skips have started here? How many versions of this could there possibly be?"

I didn't try to hold in my chuckle at her pretend exasperation at popping up yet again in Compton's mildewed living room. "I don't care. The way they all end will never grow old."

"Figures," she rolled her eyes.

"Don't pretend you don't enjoy this one as much as I do."

"Oh shut up," she pouted. "You never let me kill Bill."

Again and again and again... This would be the twelfth Bill we'd seen to ourselves.

"Your kills are still messy. If you end up covered in Bill sludge, we can't stop by the Shifter's sinkhole bar to rile him up for dessert."

That did it - there was her sexy little grin of wicked mischief.

"We should take our places, then." She brushed my lap and winked sassily as she got up. With a swift, economical motion she turned a flimsy chair leg into an impromptu stake and handed it to me as she deliberately licked her lips. Tease.

I was standing right next to her, holding her hand, as we listened to the Civil War troll come in his ramshackle front door and stop as he scented others in his hovel. Anticipation bounced back and forth in our bond as Compton appeared in the room's entryway.

"Sookie!" He exclaimed, the, "Eric!" The stain started his posturing right away. "How dare you approach her without me! What do you want with her? She is mine!"

I watched my magnificent wife as she bared her teeth with a feral smile and let her fangs drop.

"Hello, Bill," Sookie purred. "You've been a naughty, naughty boy."

If vampires could shit. That look on Bill Compton's face would never get old, no matter how many times it was repeated in our little cross-dimensional adventures.


End file.
